#2 Dangerous Games (21 page)

She rolled her eyes mockingly as she scooted to the side enough to click her seat belt and turn to him.

"And how can you be so certain I've been safe?"

"Because you weren't raised to be stupid." His jaw bunched as his eyes stayed glued to the road.

She stared back at him, confusion nudging into anger.

"You can be certain of this how?" she asked. "Drop it, Morganna," he forced past tight lips. "I'll get an
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

appointment with my doctor next week." She knew that expression on Clint's face. It was the one she usually saw when she learned that he or Reno had put the fear of death into a boyfriend.

"You're not pregnant, Morganna-"

"You can't be certain."

"I'm certain, dammit."

"Prove it."

"Because I had a fucking vasectomy five years ago. I can't get you pregnant."

Morganna stared back at him in shock. An angry snarl curled his lips as he glared over at her briefly, his blue eyes alive with anger.

"Satisfied?" he snapped when she had nothing else to say. A heavy weight settled in her chest as she stared at him. It wasn't just anger that filled his expression or his gaze. Shadows of bitterness, haunting demons swirled there, and Morganna realized she was only now seeing them for what they were.

What had happened? For whatever reason Clint had held himself back from her, this proved that it wasn't simply because she was a "party" girl. There was something deeper, some darker reason.

"For now," she whispered, turning back in her seat and staring ahead as Clint navigated the Sunday afternoon traffic toward Atlanta and the meeting with Joe.

What the hell had happened to him? Morganna frowned, wondering if Clint had always been this hard, this cold. Had it evolved? In ways it had, but she realized that as long as she had known him, she had realized there was a core of steel-hard strength, not just physical but mental. And there had always been shadows. They had drawn her when she was a child. Made her ache to comfort him the few times she had glimpsed the pain in his gaze.

He had hidden from everyone he had ever known, she thought. So effectively that she had never suspected that the man who had been so tender, so gentle, with others' children would never want one of his own.

EVERY HEAD IN THE MAIN room of Diva's Downstairs turned when the elevator opened and
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Morganna stepped into the elaborately furnished room. There had to be fifty pairs of eyes suddenly trained on her, surveying her naked face, the short length of the leather skirt, and the collar at her neck.

The collar had surprised her. It wasn't the traditional leather or studded belt that many of the submissives wore, Clint had surprised her instead with an inch-wide silver choker chain that fitted her perfectly and showed up clearly against her dark skin. Hanging in the center of the chain was a small deep blue sapphire, almost the color of his eyes. A pendant to mark her as his alone.

They paused at a wide, curved dark wood reception counter where Morganna signed the confidentiality statement Clint had warned her would be waiting for her. The six-page agreement involved everything but her firstborn child if she dared divulge the activities seen, practiced, or heard of within what they called Diva's Downstairs, Merlin's Down Under, or the Roundtable Caverns. As Drage had stated before, he covered his ass well.

With his hand at her back, Clint led her into the plushly carpeted room. Moving with relaxed ease, he guided her across the room to a small group seated at the small end.

Drage Masters leaned back in his chair as he watched their progress, a small smile tilting his sensual lips as her gaze flickered over the men and women gathered there.

Good Lord, there was the senator's son. Aaron Hawkins. She had long heard rumors of his excessive tastes in sex, but she hadn't believed them. Beside him, Jayne Smith reclined back in a chair, her exotically tilted eyes following their progress. She wore no collar, which proclaimed her as a Domme rather than a submissive.

Morganna would have much preferred to make her debut here on her own terms, under her own control. Instead ... She glanced at the women sitting at the feet of their Doms. Jeez, that was going to suck.

She tensed as Clint moved to an empty chair, ignoring the warning flex of his fingers at her back. She wasn't a moron; she knew what she was supposed to do. Be submissive. She almost sighed at the thought. That was so not her.

"McIntyre." Drage nodded as Clint took his seat easily, tugging at her hand subtly until she managed to sink down gracefully to the floor at his feet.

With her legs bent, balancing carefully on one hip, she was able to maintain at least a semblance of decency as she did so. She was going to kill Clint when they left here for not warning her what she should expect.

She had expected something similar to the club upstairs. What she found instead was a sanctuary of control. The music was sedate, a soft murmur of classical tunes that throbbed with an undertone of sexual heat. Comfortable seating arrangements were scattered throughout the room, as well as what appeared to be card tables. On the far side was a well-stocked bar, and the waiters and waitresses wore leather and red leather collars with the word "Diva's" emblazoned into them.

The seating arrangement Clint had chosen was eight chairs grouped around a wide, low table. All the chairs were filled, with only Jayne Smith lacking a female companion at her feet. Instead, a heavily muscled male leaned against her chair, his handsome face filled with amusement as he glanced at Morganna.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

This was too unreal. Jayne's sub was a very well-known member of society. Excessively wealthy, handsome, and considered one of the state's most sought after bachelors, Todd Harrington wasn't anyone's idea of a sub. Yet here he sat, dressed in black leather pants, his muscular chest bare, :he black leather band at his neck simple and understated but unmistakable with its small silver looped chain that hung from the side. Rather than a full leash or a gem, Jayne had marked her sub with a small, barely four-inch-long, chain.

Morganna's attention turned from the sub as she felt Clint's ringers threading lazily through her hair as he ordered himself a drink, then ordered her a water. Water?

She turned her head and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. Oh, he was going to pay for that one.

"Good evening, Morganna," Drage finally greeted her as everyone else continued to watch her.

She turned her head, meeting Drage's gaze directly.

"Hello, Drage." She ignored the delicate tensing of Clint's hands in her hair.

Drage's lips twitched as he glanced at Clint. "She's going to be difficult to tame, McIntyre," he informed Clint.

"Eventually she will be." Clint's voice hardened in determination, and though Morganna well understood the act they were involved in, she was suddenly intensely glad it was an act. Because she knew Clint could be a very dangerous man to cross.

"I'm surprised you pulled off making her wear the collar," an older gentleman across from them commented. "She never wears another's mark, nor has she allowed a chain to grace her own neck.

Congratulations."

What the hell was she, a trophy? She looked at him through her lashes, memorizing his face. His tone was insulting, his gaze disapproving, as he stared at her.

"I don't make her do anything, Collins," Clint stated with an undertone of exasperation. "Morganna is here by choice, as I assume Velvet is."

Velvet being the twenty-something blonde sitting at the older man's feet, her head lowered. She was dressed in a black velvet dress that hugged her figure and left little to the imagination. Her breasts were nearly bursting from the too-tight bodice, and the slit running up the thigh stopped just shy of her hip.

"Of course she is; aren't you, sweet?" He patted the blond head as though she were a favorite pet.

"Of course," Velvet murmured, her head still lowered.

Morganna placed Collins high on her list of suspects at that point.

Morganna watched the gathering as the discussion moved to county politics, the age-old argument. The waitress brought Clint's drink, then set Morganna's water on the low table. She stared at it. Hard.

A second later Clint reached forward and set his drink on the table beside hers. The whiskey sour just called to her. She bit her lip, glancing away before an imp of less than submissive impulses took hold of
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

her.

She reached out, lifted his drink, and took a fortifying sip as she ignored the flicker of amusement in most of the expressions around her. Everyone's but Collins'.

"Morganna sweetheart, that was mine," Clint said, an edge of steel in his voice. "I may have to punish you."

His fingers tightened sensually in her hair. And that just wasn't fair.

"I'll remember that," she answered in reply, barely holding back a smile at the silence that filled the group for a moment.

"So, Jayne, has your little boy toy managed to suppress his fondness for other women?" Collins asked then, turning to Jayne. "He seemed to take particular pleasure in fucking Hawkins' woman the other night."

Oh man. Morganna's gaze flew to Jayne and her "boy toy." Jayne's fingers ruffled through his black hair.

"It was quite arousing, wasn't it?" she said softly. "He has such a way about him. I believe the girl enjoyed it greatly."

Todd bent his head, kissed Jayne's leather-covered knee, and winked subtly at Morganna.

"If I remember correctly, he took particular delight in helping Clint last month with that girl from Merlin's," Collins piped in as he smirked at Morganna. "Your master enjoys sharing his women, Morganna."

"He used to enjoy sharing his women perhaps," she stated calmly. "No longer."

Collins lifted his gaze to Clint. Morganna didn't bother turning to see the fury blazing in Clint's eyes; she knew it was there. It was reaffirmed by the slight paling of Collins' face.

She was also aware of the fact that that the men watching her had suddenly become more intense, their gazes hotter. One in particular, Hawkins, watched her with blistering lust as his hand tightened in his sub's hair. And as Morganna watched, wide-eyed, the woman moved between his thighs, her fingers obviously loosening his pants.

They wouldn't.

They did.

Hawkins stared back at her with narrowed eyes as the brunette eased his erection from his trousers and lowered her head.

Morganna jerked her head around, feeling the heat pouring into her face, all too aware of how closely she was being watched. She forced her hand not to tremble as she snagged Clint's drink again and took a larger, burning drink.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Hawkins was obviously enjoying his lover's attentions if his quiet murmurs of pleasure were anything to go by. Good Lord, didn't these people believe in privacy?

Rising to her feet, Morganna ignored Clint's quiet murmuring of her name as she inhaled deeply and stared back at Jayne.

"Do you have a ladies' room?" Morganna glanced at the woman sucking intently at Hawkins' erection.

"Or is that for public view as well?"

Jayne looked over at the couple for a long moment before patting her lover on the shoulder and rising to her feet. "Clint?" She turned to Clint.

"I need his permission to visit the ladies' room?" Morganna was practically burning with embarrassment now. She was going to kill Clint for not warning her.

"With another Domme you do." Jayne laughed. "But he knows he needn't worry. As lovely as you are, dear, women aren't my thing."

Morganna wasn't about to comment.

"Come along then." Jayne indicated a hallway several feet from where Morganna stood. "I need a break myself."

They moved into the hallway, where Morganna came to another bone-jarring stop. The way was lit by windows, but the view wasn't of the outside. It was of small rooms stretching down the hall, one window after another, with varying degrees of sexual acts being played out behind the windows.

"I can see Clint followed the letter of his contract with Drage," Jayne commented as Morganna began to follow her slowly. "Warning you what to expect is expressly forbidden by a member. Until you're accepted by myself and Drage, you aren't allowed down this hallway."

Morganna stopped again, staring through a glass partition with wide eyes. She knew that woman. The TV anchorwoman was bent over and shackled to a bed, her hips raised as a leather-clad man took a paddle to her rear and the woman raised and lowered her hips, working the dildo her lover held inside her with each backward thrust of her hips.

So this was what the confidentiality agreement Morganna had signed when they first entered meant.

Sweet mercy.

"The ladies' room is just down the hall." Jayne gripped her arm and pulled her forward. "Why the hell are you here, Morganna? You're obviously not submissive material."

"Says who?" Morganna questioned her absently as she paused again, swallowing deeply at the sight of another couple. If she had ever been curious about anal sex, she was getting an eyeful now.

The toy Clint had used on her the night before didn't even compare to the sight of the couple engaging in it on the other side of the glass.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Come on, Morganna," Jayne chuckled as she pulled at her arm again. "You can watch later when Clint's with you...."

Later? With Clint? Good gracious. That very well may not be a very good idea.

Morganna escaped into the ladies' room, breathing in roughly as she tried to plaster herself to the tiled wall just inside the door.

Jayne had excused herself to return to the main room, and to be honest, Morganna was damned glad of it. She hadn't expected this. To be honest, she had expected something darker, rougher, and she could have handled that much more easily. Shadowed rooms and pounding music with a few sexual antics in the corners. That wouldn't have thrown her nerves into a tailspin.